John Lennon is a well-known boy at Quarry Bank highschool. He is a huge troublemaker with a record that will stick with him.
He has one goal, to make a certain younger, doe-eyed boy --by the name of Paul McCartney-- his.
Yet, Paul wants nothing to...
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Thehumanlifeismadeupofchoices,
Youcan say fuck itoryoucanbeacoward
You can fight....or you can give in...
He should have been in bed already, he should have been sound asleep. But he laid awake, eyes firm on the ceiling and hands crapped over his chest.
The scent of hot bubblegum breath still lingered in his nose and the sight of a teddyboy wearing black-rimmed glasses and tussled auburn hair still logged into his head, staring back at him with honest, serious eyes that he refused to believe.
Paul turned over and curled up in a fetal position, hands tucking into his pillow.
He couldn't stop thinking about the events, hell, he couldn't even processit. He was unable to.
John had taken his notebook every fucking day in writing and wrote those lyrics inside, and for what, to confuse Paul? To make his presence known??
Now he was feeling things he didn't think he would all at once. A little bit of disappointment. Revelation. Amazement. Recognition.
